


Borrowed Time

by BardofHeartDive



Series: Tumblr Posts [6]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Citadel Council, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 01:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8268151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardofHeartDive/pseuds/BardofHeartDive
Summary: My incredibly late submission for Citadel Council Appreciation Week on tumblr.





	

While alarms blared and electronics sparked and crew members shouted orders and reports, the Council stood on the bridge of the Destiny Ascension in a surreal calm. Their positions had taught them objectivity, to look at a situation and see it as it was, not how they wanted it to be. Looking out the viewscreen at the geth fleet opposing them, they saw that they were outnumbered, outgunned, and outmatched. They were going to die.

And then the Alliance arrived.

* * *

Sparatus felt guilty using his Council privileges to make a personal call. Dutiful self-sacrifice was the heart of turian culture. Abuse of power was disgusting, even to the point of abhorrent when it was for personal gain. But since he should have made the greatest sacrifice that day, he decided to allow himself this one selfishness.

Valana was reading a datapad on her couch when she answered the call but she shot to attention as soon as she saw his face, practically flinging the pad aside.

“ _ Patri! _ I’ve been trying to reach you all day! Are you alright? Where are you?”

“I’m fine, Vala,” he answered. “I’m still on the Citadel, in a hotel on the Presidium.” He tried not to let too much longing into his subharmonics as he added, “Are the girls up?”

Vala hummed a negative before saying, “But I’ll go get them.” She stood then added, “I didn’t tell them anything. I didn’t want to before I knew . . . ” 

She didn’t finish the thought before disappearing from the screen’s view. When she returned she had her two daughters with her. Kyma, the younger, was sound asleep, curled up in her mother’s cowl, but Iolene was awake enough to stumble in with only a little guidance. She was bleary eyed, clutching a yellow blanket, but she lit up as soon as she saw him.

“ _ Patri _ !” she squealed, her voice flanging wildly in excitement. She settled down in front of the screen. She got a good look at him and asked, “Why are you crying,  _ patri _ ?”

“Oh, I just . . . I had a scary day today.”

Iolene hummed in understanding. Her mandibles twitched with the grave thoughtfulness only young children can muster. “Do you know what I do when I’m scared? I think of a funny story. Want me to tell you one?”

“I do,  _ mitri _ . I would like that very much.”

She immediately started in about a trip she had taken with her class but Sparatus didn’t really listen. Just the sound of her chirps and whistles, the cadences of her subharmonics, was enough to right his world.

* * *

The university on Rannadril was a surprisingly well kept secret in the Salarian Union. It was small but prestigious and the planet’s cooler climate tended to deter all but the most dedicated students and instructors. During his tenure, Valern had begrudgingly tolerated the weather but returning now he almost enjoyed the chill in the air.

There were private study rooms on the sixth floor of the library. He had always used Room G and fortunately it was empty now. He activated the haptic displays and synced them with his omni-tool. The screens filled with equations and variables. He took a minute to look the whole thing over then started working on a line of numbers.

He had been at an impasse for six minutes when he heard the door behind him open.

“Excuse me, you can’t be in here. This room is reserved for - ”

He turned to see a young salarian with bright blue streaks on his yellow skin. His arms were full of datapads, which he nearly dropped when he realized who he was talking to.

“Professor Valern. Sir.”

It was the title that caught him. Someone else would have been insulted that the other man had not addressed him as “Councilor” but Valern was strangely touched. Here, in a building dedicated to the gaining and sharing of knowledge there was no greater term of respect.

The younger salarian started to say that he would be happy to mark the room reserved but his eyes flicked back to the screens and he stopped short again.

“You’re applying dark matter principles to Mohan’s postulate.”

Valern tilted his head, appraising the other. “You’re familiar with Mohan’s postulate?”

“I’m doing my senior studies on it. Specifically its applications to relay course plotting.” He added almost shyly, “I’ve read all your articles but I haven’t seen this.”

“This is my first work with it,” Valern admitted. He didn’t say that the idea had come to him shortly after joining the Council, almost a decade ago but he had never made the time to work on it. “Would you like to stay and assist me?”

“It would be an honor, Professor.”

* * *

There were twenty-seven unread messages on Tevos’ terminal. All of them were from concerned family, friends, and colleagues except for two. Both of those were in her auto-deleted files. One was an advertisement for a new kitchen supply store that was opening in Kithoi Ward. The other was an error warning attached to it.

“According to our systems, this message has been sent in error. We apologize for any inconvenience. Please click here to block the original sender.” 

She sat down before softly touching the link. Instead of taking her to security page, however, her screen went blank. For a full minute there was nothing and then a clear contralto voice poured out of speakers. “The Lament of Nissas” from Polestars. 

Not her favorite opera, but certainly the one that meant the most to her.

Tevos listened in the dark, never moving, barely breathing as the song continued. The Lament was considered one of the most challenging pieces in asari opera because of its range. Making such a low melody sound lofty was a difficult task. Inexperienced performers often compensated by over-embellishing but the singer in this recording was flawless, allowing herself only a tasteful cadenza before moving into the second section.  

“How far can love reach when we are lost and divided? How far can love bend when loads have dragged us down? We part now as we must for eternity has railed against us. But even when love is gone, we will remain.”

She could not bring herself to stop the song so she used her omni-tool to compose her own message. When she was finished she entered a series of encryption codes. She had paid a small fortune for the programs, to a salarian whose grandchildren’s grandchildren were now dead. She had paid a large fortune to the Shadow Broker to find it, just to make sure it could not be found. It was as secret as anything could be.

Even after she sent her reply, Tevos waited until the song finished before reading the other twenty-five messages.

Light-years away, a datapad pinged as two new messages arrived and were immediately flagged to be deleted. One was a newsletter from a local varren rescue shelter, the other offered a link to block the sender. But following the link only led to random number generator that eventually stopped at 15-11-1680.

Aria breathed a sigh of relief, then deleted the date of the last time she had seen her favorite opera.

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon note: Much of turian language is communicated through their subharmonics. In this case, the word for “father,” “grandfather,” and “uncle” are all the same but with different accompanying vocalizations to change the meaning.


End file.
